Fighting
Struggling for control
Stuff is piling up
Stress is making it hard
Control seems best
but death seems better
Why so much stress?
Locked in my room
Fighting
Nightmare
Waking
Crying
Losing it
Remembers friends
Friends would cry
Friends would miss
Friends would Pray
Remembers and starts fighting again
Fights because her friends care.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem